Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros

We here at Robot Loves Zombie have, over the course of the last year, not only become acquainted, but absolutely smitten with The Flight of the Conchords (I was going to put a slick link in the name but they have a million sites, none of which get updated regularly. I'm not bitter, though...). So I wrote them a letter today in the hopes that they can fix a problem they created through their endeavors. I got excited and sent off the first email too soon and had to create a second one. I also had to join fucking MySpace again just so I could send them a goddamn message. Enjoy.

Dear Flight of the Conchords (Bret and Jemaine),

I recently purchased your CD, Flight of the Conchords. I was enjoying the CD quite a bit when Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros [feat. Rhymenocerous and the Hiphopopotamus] came on. While the song is catchy and starts off well, one part in particular was a bit off-putting. Jemaine, a.k.a. Hiphopopotamus, clearly states that his lyrics are bottomless. Upon hearing this line I was more excited than ever by the song because I was looking forward to a lyrical buffet, as it were. So you can imagine my chagrin when I found out that, in fact, this so-called "rapper"'s lyrics were not only bottomful, but that they had indeed already run out.

As a consumer and aspiring rap artist you must understand how deeply this affected me. As of the time of this email, I am currently unable to listen to rap songs of any kind for fear that what the rappers say may not be true. What would the world be like if, for instance, Jay-Z only had 63 problems? Or take it a step further: What if one of his 63 problems was a bitch after all? Suppose for a moment that when Dr. Dre is on the mic, nobody crumbles like a cookie? Are we, the rapping community, really able to handle having so many sucka' ninjas standing resolutely against our rhymes? I submit that we are not.

To right this wrong, I strongly suggest you do the following things:

1. Record an alternate version of the song in which you fill the deafening silence created by your dirty, dirty lies.

2. Write or record a formal apology to your fans and the rap community at large. It would be nice if you mentioned me: It will help my activist agenda of making sure that everybody believes everything they hear in the media. I would happily post your apology on my blog and YouTube channel to increase your already considerable exposure.

3. Send me an autographed, FotC-branded item of your choosing. You can even have Brian/Murray/Rhys sign it for the sake of being thorough. This will show your commitment to making things right, standing strong in the face of adversity.

Do these things and you will be able to restore the world's faith in the rap game. I dream that one day my son will grow up knowing, not believing, but knowing that Vanilla Ice will cook MCs like a pound of bacon, that 911 is a joke in his town, and that, while a woman is welcome to do side-bends or sit-ups, she need never lose that butt.
That's a world you should want to raise your kids in as well.

Sincerely,
Josh Scotto, a.k.a. Dekx
Co-Blogger at www.robotloveszombie.blogspot.com

P.S. I wrote this note hoping that it would be easy to contact you two fine gentlemen. But to my surprise I had to create a MySpace profile since no other option appears to be available to me. As you must know by now, MySpace is pretty much the worst website of all time and space. It's like the Mos Isley of the internets only you don't get the satisfaction of slicing off a fool's arm when he acts like a fool-ass fool.

Please install a red "Conchords Phone" in your music/crime fighting lair at your earliest convenience. I shall do the same, ensuring that any time RLZ needs to contact FotC, we will be able to do so ASAP. Trust me, Jemaine and Bret, it's for your own good.

(Second email)
P.P.S.

I forgot to leave you a more amenable means of contacting us at RLZ while we all work on the Conchords Phone implementation.

Though you can find it by navigating to our blog, our email address is robotloveszombie@gmail.com

P.P.P.S.

Also, meant to put my rapping name in my signature, and so shall do it now.

Thanks for your time,
Beatloaf

Get Fuuucked, MySpace

I dunno why I joined MySpace, exactly. I think it had to do with the hot rollerderby girls here in Reno. But I fucking hated it there. While going through the 17 screens required to destroy my MySpace account, I found a box with seemingly unlimited characters asking my why I was leaving that cyber shit hole. Following is what I wrote and submitted.

Well, where to begin? For starters, it's slow. This may have something to do with all the people coming here, but more likely to do with the fact that it seems the whole thing was coded almost at random. Perhaps you you guys hired some of those Shakespeare-writing monkies? Or perhaps your servers were shot in the face with an HTML cannon? I dunno, but I get a headache just looking at this place, never mind trying to navigate it.

But more importantly, I hate it here. It's full of amateur pornographers that want me to watch them diddle themselves on webcams and then send them what little money I don't spend on professional pornographers diddling themselves on webcams. I also seem to have contracted what is either Herpes Symplex B or a case of The Babies. In any event I'm swollen, red, and full of penicillin.

In closing, I'd just like to say that I'm never coming back and felt you should hear it from me so you're not surprised when you come by to read my latest blog entry. But do not despair! We will always have those unbareably long waits when trying to move from one page to the next. That's how I will forever remember you.

Love Always,
Dekx

And now here's a song by one of Robot Loves Zombie's Ukelele Girlfriends singing about MySpace. I wish all of our posts could have such relevant outros.

"Eat Dat Cat Poo!!"

Due to the holidays and some recent retirements, there are a lot of potlucks going on today. Normally I don't mind potlucks because I think I eat what average people eat so I don't mind smelling what they cooked.

But today...

Today I smelled what I can only describe as cooking cat shit. There was nothing else I could associate the smell with that would explain the horriblenessitudinosity of it. For reals. Obviously I was concerned. Who would cook cat shit? More importantly, who would eat cat shit?! Even MORE importantly, who would cook cat shit then bring it to work hoping somebody would eat it?!?!?

I'm at odds with myself: On the one hand, the inexplicable smell of cooked cat shit. On the other hand, it seems nearly impossible that somebody would cook cat shit. If I'm wrong, then obviously I'm out of balance. I'm bonkers, nuts, apeshit insane. But if I'm right...GORT help us all...

Note To Self

Do NOT fart in your cube while you're wearing headphones. You'll have no idea how loud it was and that's wicked dangerous.

Election 08

We here in the Glorious Nation Church State of Chakakahnistan, Inc. would like to congratulate the United States and Barak Obama. While our relationship with the US has been tenuous at best since the atrocities committed against us by the Nixon administration, we look forward to a more open and rewarding dialogue with the newly elected commander and chief.

For America, this is an amazingly historic moment. It's the first time an African American or "Black Person" has been elected to such a lofty office. Chakakahnistan applauds this choice. Our recent election which was won handily by RoboCop and Unicorn had several firsts of its own that America may still not be ready for. Firstly, RoboCop is the first cyborg elected to this office. Some of you may say, "Wait, Optimus Prime served 01010110 terms as president!". But we remind you that Optimus Prime is a full robot, and Chakakahinstan has never shied away from electing a robot to high office. But this is the first time that someone half man, half machine and all cop has held this office. This of course is not counting the three years when Dekx let a robotic ape with Liberace's brain run our nation church state corporation. That's not really a cyborg. We don't know what it is, but it wasn't a cyborg.

This is also only the second time in the history of Chakakahnistan that a Mythical creature has served since Teddy Roosevelt won in '87. Again, something America may just not be ready for.

We do however, have some concerns and suggestions for the new President of America.

1. Favorable Trade status with Chakakahnistan. Like China, we are not afraid to use slave and prison labour to produce cheap and dangerous products. Unlike China, we are not ashamed of that fact. We are not intimidated by so-called Humanitarian Watchdog Groups. We simply drug them and they wake up in the mines being menaced by robot guards with plasma whips. Also, America still owes us $50 that we loaned Henry Kissinger when he ran into a little "gambling debt".

2. End hostilities with Japan. I haven't really kept up with the war and all, but they build damn fine robots and if you keep antagonizing them, the Japanese may turn them loose on America someday. Don't say we didn't warn you.

3. More freedom for the undead. While Chakakahnistan has had a zombie first lady and several rotting presidents, and we have had to shoot them all in the head eventually, at least they got to serve. Meanwhile, America has kept the zombie population violently reigned in. You can tell a lot about a nation by how it treats its zombies.

4. You guys don't mind if we hit it with that Palin chick, do you? I mean, she's ripe for what you might call a, "heaving beef missle grudge fuck," if you catch our drift (/wink). We don't want to be lewd so we'll leave it at this subtle intimation but you'd be cool with it, right? If it would be weird for you guys we totally won't do it but we didn't think it would hurt to ask.

4a. Please don't make us invoke the time-honored "Brosiffs Before Hosiffs" code.

5. Increase the speed of light. If anyone can do this, America can. Chakakahnistan already benefits from unrestricted universal speed. We have the "Warp Vortex Cane Punch" cane that allows me to instantly punch Dekx in the neck from miles away through the warp gate attached to the top of my pimp cane. Dekx and I often time-travel in order to try and kill each other or to "do it" with each other's mom and try to become each other's fathers. And we just recently completed the main power supply of Planet Baracus. Our crack unit of commandoes built it out of car parts, old lumber and two siamese cats that they found in the LA underground. I don't understand how it works, but I'm assured it involves the cats being fired out of a cannon and going faster than the speed of light and driving around in a van a lot.

In closing, I would like to quote the great and wise Maya Angelu;

"Ice Cube will Swarm, On any motherfucker in a blue uniform!"

The Lost Histories of the Great and Glorious Nation Church State of Chakakahnistan Inc. Part the First

Vienna, Austria. 1808 AD
Ludwig Von Beethoven was between his 6th and 7th Symphonies. Napolean Bonepart was running around Europe and getting in fights. Knowing that Vienna was protected by Beethoven, Napoleon commissioned the design and construction of his fourth, and largest, Coal Powered-Automatic Soldier in hopes that he could conquer Vienna without any chance of resistance. Taken by suprise, much of the city was crushed by the giant metal feet of Napoleon's lumbering juggernaut. This destruction continued unabated for a few minutes because Beethoven couldn't hear all the screaming and crashing and simply wondered why all the stupid people were running around and making faces at him. But once he was properly notified by the city through use of the Beethoven signal flashing across the sky, Ludwig sprang into action. Swiftly he dashed through the streets of a terrified Vienna and spying the nearest piano through the smashed open wall of a family sitting room, Beethoven played the secret chords that allowed him to grow to considerable size. Beethoven found the robot closing in on the Schatzkammer where the royal jewels of the Hapsburg are kept. Napoleon wanted these to help finance his wars, and also because some of them would look stunning pinned to his jacket.
The fight raged for many hours, with only one restroom break, and one break for tea.
Beethoven won.
Demoralized, Napoleon next tried to invade Russia and that sorta failed too and led to his eventual defeat by all the other people that didn't like him. Napoleon's giant robot was last seen limping toward Poland.
Beethoven went on to write more symphonies and was the first to make contact with diplomats from another planet. He kicked their asses too.

The End

Lost Tablets of Tales of Mothy

I'm back. For a little bit. To check on my experiments, test the pasta and make sure it's cooked properly, add a dash of salt to soup, and make sure they flick all the rat droppings off the plate before it goes out to the customers. Other than that I've been up to my neck in artwork and overtime at real work. I'm finishing up special sketch cards for a set known as Marvel Masterpieces. These original sketches get collated in with the regular cards and are pretty rare. I also get some of my own to draw up and sell on e-bay or as commissions. I'm already $200 richer than I was last week. So, yeah. It ain't exactly comics, but I'm getting paid to draw Marvel characters.

On another art front, I have two pieces of pen and ink drawing in a one night fund raiser show for Reno Erotico Diablo. I got to draw robots with boobies! When I went to drop off the artwork, at a local boutique that's helping put on the show, the owner asked me to do a show in her store, so there's that too.

I've also recently un-earthed some lost files from the history of the Glorious Nation Church State of Chakakahnistan, Inc. As soon as we have more catalogued and verified by our legion of super-smart chimp lawyers, we'll begin posting those. It will change the way you look at history. Forever. Even in the future when they have re-forgotten the things we are about to teach you, it will blow their future minds like a talking space jellyfish just stung their enlarged psychic prostate! 

MOTHy